


you could never hate her

by agentmaine



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 07:32:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8363305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentmaine/pseuds/agentmaine
Summary: Even when she was like the sun, when she burned so brightly it hurt to even glance at her, you couldn’t stop yourself from staring.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this fandom is ridiculously talented & i am damn intimidated but here's some angst i wrote a while back

You could never hate her. No matter what she did, no matter what scheme or trouble she dragged you into, you never hated her for it. In fact, in all truthfulness and with embarrassment put aside – it’s why you fell in love with her in the first place. You were a cop, for god’s sake, and she was the definition of morally grey but right from the moment she first caught your attention, you could never look away. Even when she was like the sun, when she burned so brightly it hurt to even glance at her, you couldn’t stop yourself from staring.

You got a high from racing. The speed, the danger, the feeling of victory and the satisfaction of it all coursed through your veins and turned your blood into electricity, humming and buzzing and vibrating under your skin and making you feel alive. You got a bigger high from Sloane herself. She grabbed your hand after the two of you won yet another race together and from then, there was no turning back. The feeling of your hand in hers – it was worth more than any prize. And when she kissed you, leaning down in one swift movement and pressing her lips with yours, it was everything – it was danger and safety and fear and comfort all at the same time. It was what you wanted, what you _needed_ even, and you kissed her back.

Things began to break bad. Still, you didn’t hate her. Not even for a second. She became cold and distant and the fire inside her turned to ice so cold that it hurt you. You didn’t hate her. You tried to help her, tried to bring Sloane back. _Your_ Sloane, your love, the woman you knew shouldn’t be acting like this. You couldn’t bring yourself to hate her even when she took the lives of two racers, when she broke the promise the two of you made to never end up like that. You yelled and argued and cried and she walked away, but you never hated her.

You couldn’t hate her, because you knew, you could feel it with every part of your heart and soul, that this wasn’t _her._ This wasn’t _your_ Sloane.

You couldn’t hate her, didn’t even come close to hating her, even when the stupid goddamn sash around her waist turned her into something akin to a monster, something terrifying, something dangerous, something unlovable – but not unlovable to you. You looked at her and through the darkness, through the danger, through the power, you saw Sloane. _Your Sloane._ You saw fear, you saw vulnerability, you saw love. You saw her and your memories with her. You saw hands locked together, kisses broken by laughter, arms wrapped around your waist and her dark hair spread across your pillowcase, rays of early morning sunlight across her face that made her look like art.

You loved her, and that’s what brought her back to you.

Most wouldn’t call it a victory – which is reasonable, considering it cost you your life. But that’s not it, is it? Because in more ways than one, _she_ was your life. And you had her back. And you loved her and you love her and you will love her, no matter what, through all of what happened and what was to come. And she loves you. Her hand combed through your hair and you smiled brighter than you had since she walked away because Sloane was there and she was herself and she was yours. You couldn’t hate her. She declared herself a fool and you laughed and agreed, but you didn’t hate her.

Not even a little.

And maybe, it’s not a victory. But she’s holding you and it’s warm, it’s comfort, it’s home, and you feel safer than you have in a long time. Maybe it’s not a victory. You’re encompassed with your love in cherry blossom, vines of poison replaced with soft petals floating downwards, replaced with roots buried deep into the ground and a sign of life left behind even when you’re gone. Maybe it’s not a victory, but you’re damn sure it’s not a loss.


End file.
